


Auld Lang Syne

by jachiavellian



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/M, New Year's Eve, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jachiavellian/pseuds/jachiavellian
Summary: New Year's Eve in the Fletcher household. Our favourite ginger turns up and fluff ensues.





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Happy almost New Year guys! I hope you like fluffy flac because I got some.

“3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!”

The Fletcher household erupted in cheers as the clock struck midnight and the sound of dual fireworks both outside and on the telly flooded the living room. Fletch grinned as he was swarmed by three sets of small arms, stretching his own out to embrace his three younger children. Over their shoulders Evie watched from the sofa, eyebrows raised and a humorous smile curving her lips.

“No hug for your old dad?” He asked her, standing up straight and ruffling Theo’s hair as Mikey rushed off to the window.

“Maybe if you give me my phone back,” came the snarky reply. Fletch chuckled, reaching into his jeans pocket and withdrawing the pink-cladded mobile.

“Hug first,” he instructed and she rolled her eyes before her arms encircled his waist. He smiled, planting a brief kiss against her hairline before releasing her. “Go on then, text your mates. But no more online shopping with my card, okay? If you want something, just tell me and I’ll buy it for you. Within reason.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she gave him a guilty smile, taking the phone from his outstretched hand and ducking away to sit down again, tapping furiously at the screen once she was seated. Fletch watched her for a moment, the corner of his eyes creasing affectionately, before going to retrieve his own mobile from the mantelpiece. He tapped the contacts app and typed out a quick _‘Happy New Year’_ , furrowing his brow in thought. A few seconds passed, then he added a kiss to the end of the message and jammed the send button before he could lose his nerve.

A chorus of excited gasps came from the window as a second set of fireworks sounded, and Fletch made his way across the room to join Theo and Ella as they watched colours burst in the sky above. The lights reflected in their wide eyes and he felt a surge of warmth flood his chest at their innocence despite everything.

“Is Uncle Raf watching too?” Theo whispered, looking up at him. Fletch smiled through the visceral reaction he felt at the question, and nodded.

“I bet he is. Do you remember how excited he was about the fireworks on Bonfire Night?” Theo gave him a toothy grin in response, although it wasn’t strictly true, Fletch mused. As he recalled, Raf had very much not wanted to go to the Holby fireworks display and was only convinced to go after the kids had practically begged him. The smile he had worn all night was for their benefit, and the memory felt like a knife twisting in Fletch’s heart.

Ella interrupted his thoughts then with an excited squeal, tapping at the glass of the windows with her chubby fingers. “Daddy, look! It’s Jacula!” Fletch frowned and followed her gaze across the garden outside, squinting to make out the familiar figure stood at the end of it. A bemused expression crossed his face, and he stepped back from the window.

“I’ll be back in a minute, kids,” he said, and headed out of the room to open the door. By the time he had made his way along the doorway, Jac had reached the front door and was reaching for the doorbell. When the door swung open she blinked, startled. A stunned silence fell between them.

“Jac,” he stated dumbly at last.

“Hi,” she said, stray locks of hair sticking to her parted lips as she stared breathlessly at him. Another set of fireworks erupted somewhere overhead, painting her face in muted blue and purple lights and sending shadows dancing beneath her cheekbones. Fletch blinked.

“Uh, what are you doing here? You should be resting at home-“

“Jonny brought his new girlfriend round,” she explained, her eyes finally leaving his to stare down at where her fingers were twisting together in front of her body. “It was… all a bit much so I left them with Emma. Needed to clear my head. Anyway, I, uh, I got your text as I was on my way over.” She waved her phone at him as if to prove her point.

“Oh.” He paused, gaze sweeping over her; she was tense, her muscles clenching in reaction to the frost that hung in the air. The trench coat draped around her small frame didn’t appear to be doing much to shield her from it and Fletch had the sudden ridiculous urge to wrap her up in a blanket and sit her in front of the electric fire with biscuits and mulled wine. He didn’t even own mulled wine. “It’s cold – come in.”

As he finished speaking Mikey shouted something indistinguishable from inside and there was the sound of Theo laughing in response. Jac pressed her lips together in some semblance of a smile and shook her head. “No, I just wanted to drop by to…” she trailed off, a foreign look crossing her face. Fletch recognised it after a brief moment as one of uncertainty. He allowed the pause to hang pregnant in the air, punctuated only by the distant notes of Auld Lang Syne from the telly, before raising his eyebrows. “To…  what?”

Jac swallowed, her jaw clenching subtly at the movement. She bit down on her bottom lip before raising her gaze to settle on him once more. Fletch allowed her to study him, her feline eyes taking in each contour of his face and sending shivers travelling down his body. Finally they rested on his lips. His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Happy New Year, Fletcher,” she murmured, already stepping towards him and reaching a hand up to his cheek. Her fingers grazed the stubble on his jaw, and he could see every one of her mascara-coated eyelashes and the winged shadow they cast across the skin beneath her eyes. As her chin lifted delicately he reached up with his hand to touch it and lowered his own head to meet her. Their lips brushed together in a chaste kiss. The noise of the fireworks and the melody drifting from the living room and the chatter of his children all faded to a blurred buzz in the background, each of his senses narrowing to focus entirely on the woman before him and the sensation of her skin against his tentative fingertips and her cool, soft lips against his own.

All too soon Jac withdrew, an uncharacteristically soft expression adorning her face, and Fletch wanted nothing more than to pull her back in, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her properly, the way he’d wanted to kiss her for ages. But the moment wasn’t right; there was something about her expression – so tender and vulnerable – that he couldn’t bring himself to disturb, and so instead he just raised his eyebrows at her, allowing his lips to curve upwards of their own volition.

“I didn’t think New Year would be your thing,” he said, and she exhaled in a puff of laughter, the tension breaking as she looked away.

“It’s not. Are you sure Petrenko didn’t mess with my head whilst I was under?”

“Well, you have been a little less ‘Ice Queen’ than usual recently,” Fletch teased gently.

“We can’t have that - page someone from neuro to fix it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he murmured, gaze dropping to her lips again. “I’m quite enjoying it.” Jac smirked at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in for a drink?”

“I should get back to Emma,” she said, shaking her head. “Make sure that Daddy’s new girlfriend is behaving herself.”

“I take it she hasn’t yet earned the Naylor seal of approval,” he chuckled, and she screwed up her face in disgust.

“Emma had more dignity before she was potty trained,” came the disparaging response. Fletch grinned, an almost instinctive reaction now whenever she made one of her snide remarks. They were comforting reminders of the fact that she was still alive – that the bullet hadn’t done its job and that her heart was still beating strong. In the pause that followed, she let her gaze drop. “Well, I need to get back.”

Fletch nodded, hands itching to reach out and touch her, and as if she sensed his desire she lifted her hand to wrap her fingers delicately around his own. Her eyes followed their movement, almost as if it surprised her, but when she looked up her expression was curiously resolute.

“I’ll see you back at work then,” he said, running his thumb over her fingers without really thinking about it. “Unless- uh, unless you want to get a drink or something before then?”

Jac arched an eyebrow. “Remember when you were too scared to talk to me?” she teased. He offered a sheepish smile.

“Now I know you’re just a teddy bear.”

“Don’t push it,” she shot him a mock-glare. There was a pause, and then she nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Uh, sorry?” He furrowed his brow, confused, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I will go for a drink with you. Text me.”

“Oh! Right, yeah. I will.” Jac had managed to surprise him for the second time that night, and, realising this, the corners of her lips quirked upwards triumphantly. She squeezed his hand slightly before releasing it and stepping back.

“Goodnight, Fletch.”

“Night,” he returned, twining his hands together and retracing the soft touch of her fingers with his own. She cast him a final glance, her expression somewhere between the classic Naylor smirk and the softer, more genuine smile that had started to emerge in recent weeks, before turning on her heel and heading back down the path towards the darkened street. Fletch exhaled slowly as he watched her go, a hopeful feeling blossoming within him for possibly the first time since Raf had died.

2018 would be better. For him, and for the kids, and for Jac. He’d make sure of it.


End file.
